The Grimm Chronicles
by TheShipsterQueen
Summary: Awkwardness, mischief, pranks, near-death experiences, and badly timed jokes- it's what the Grimms do best. A series of drabbles and fluff about their adventures shortly after the Everafter War to make you smile.
1. Standard Protocol

**Chapter One:**

 **Standard Protocol**

* * *

"This is Ryan, he's my science buddy," Daphne said. "Ryan, meet my family."

Ryan gulped and wondered what he had done wrong as everyone in the living room glared daggers at him. He wished he had never agreed to do research at Daphne's place. He edged closer to his friend.

"Is he a local?" Veronica asked. _Does he know about Everafters?_

"No, but his grandma is. She was friends with the mayor, I think." _Descendant of a good Everafter. Doesn't know the truth._

The tension in the room didn't relax, but Daphne apparently did not notice. "Come on; let's go up to my room. It's _totally_ awesome."

Henry Grimm seethed as Ryan grabbed his daughter's hand and the duo ran upstairs.

Without a word, Puck and Veronica cuffed Henry to the ping pong table in the basement.

"It's for your own good," they told him.

Henry nodded consent and pleaded them to shut the door before the Rage took over.

* * *

"I need to go toilet."

"Downstairs, door at the end of the hall."

"Can… can you go with me?"

Cue the weird look. "What?"

"N-never mind."

Ryan got up very slowly, in severe internal conflict. Eventually, the call of nature won, and he stepped outside the safe haven of Daphne's room.  
Immediately, a hand shot out and grabbed his ankle. Another smothered his scream, and dragged him into a dark room.

"AAHH! Let me _go!_ " he shrieked.

"Silence!" a commanding voice ceased his yelling. "Silence! I have a weapon, and _will_ use it should I choose to!"

Ryan immediately stopped wriggling. "Who…?" he asked fearfully.

"That is none of your business. It has come to our attention that you may share some affection with a certain Daphne Delilah Grimm, who is under our care. As her friends, we ask you to kindly leave her alone, and will carry out our threat to kill or severely injure you should you choose not to heed our orders. We repeat our request: stay _away_ from Daphne Grimm. She is also not to know of this meeting. If she finds out, we _will_ find you and kill you, slowly and painfully. Am I understood, you fool? Answer me!"

Ryan nodded weakly, though he had no intention of being romantically involved with Daphne. They were practically strangers!

"Very well. You are now at liberty to leave."

A hand guided him to the door, though the owner of it stayed in the shadows. Ryan dashed out hurriedly, terrified.

Meanwhile, back in the room, a small boy turned on the lights. "Do you think you were too scary, Pinocchio?"

Pinocchio shook his head. "I needed to properly terrify him. I'm glad he believed us, because he could have easily strangled both of us at the same time with a hand tied behind his back."

"Oh. Okay. Good job, then."

The two young boys high fived and exited the room.

* * *

Ryan rushed down the stairs toward the toilet. Fortunately, he did not meet any adversaries demanding he kept away from his science buddy on the way.

Ryan washed and dried his hands slowly. He knew Daphne must be wondering where he was. He must hurry back.

This time, he did not step out recklessly as before. No, this time Ryan held out a bathroom slipper in front of him menacingly as he slowly opened the door and crept out into the open. Alas, his foes were not deterred by the ominous bathroom slipper.

Someone stepped out from the shadows, blocking his path. Fortunately, they did not grab Ryan's ankle or drag him to a dark room.

"Listen here, punk," the person said. The voice was distinctively feminine. "You don't mess with my sister, you hear? You don't and I'll leave you alone, but if you do I'm gonna make your life a living hell, you understand?"

Ryan nodded meekly once again. This must be the famous Sabrina Grimm of whose right hook he'd heard of so much.

She stepped out of his way and Ryan dashed upstairs as fast as he could; wondering what in the world he could have done to provoke the wrath of the eccentric family in the process.

* * *

"Oh, I can't believe we finished so quickly!" Daphne grinned. "Did anyone ever tell you your brain is super-powered? I'm _so_ going to be your partner next time!"

Ryan nodded wordlessly. He would throw himself into a nest of fire ants before that happened.

"So… can you go to the door with me?" he asked.

Weird look.

"Do you have something about old houses, or the dark, or something?" Daphne queried.  
Ryan nodded again, that being the only reasonable answer he could come up with. Fortunately, his partner looked sympathetic and led him out of her room.  
Unfortunately, she was holding his hand in what she supposed was a comforting gesture. Try as he might, Ryan could not extract his hand from her grip without appearing rude. He groaned inwardly at what would appear as a romantic indication on his part; and the consequences if he was caught. Just as he was about to whisper that he didn't feel comfortable holding hands with her, someone else crossed their path.

"Oh, hey, mom. We've just finished doing our science project. Ryan is _so_ smart, you know."  
Ryan cringed. Was he being a total paranoid, or did Daphne's mother have brass knuckles on? _They can't hurt me. They're not going to be doing anything violent to me. They can't.  
_ Somehow, even this thought did not bring much thought to the terrified fourteen year old youth.

"That's great!" Fake enthusiasm. "Daphne, can I want to talk to your science partner a bit? You know, privately."

"Okay, mom!"

Ryan watched with despair as his only defence tripped off down the hall.  
"I'm not looking to be romantically involved with your daughter, ma'am. Really. It's all strictly educational between us," he said desperately.

Veronica smiled grimly. "Is that so?" she asked, now twirling the brass knuckle around her pinkie idly. "That's fantastic, Ryan. I hope you keep it so. Daphne is young and not ready to have any love interests. I hope not to ever catch you two holding hands again. Have I made myself clear? Brilliant. Good afternoon."

She watched Ryan as he walked down the hallway, so he couldn't run. As he turned around the corner… yes. There stood another man. This house was infested with over-protective family members!

"Hey, kid," he said. Unlike his predecessors, he was making no move to be threatening. "You friends with the Marshmallow?"

Assuming he meant Daphne, Ryan nodded. "Again, not romantically. We're just science partners, okay? Just leave me alone!"

The man laughed. "Have the Grimms been giving you a hard time? Thought they would. They've always been too defensive. But they're right about one thing—you should stay away from Daphne. It's not that we think you're not good enough for her... actually, it is. But don't be offended."

Ryan was really extremely offended, but decided he had to get out of the house as soon as possible. "Yeah, I understand. Thanks for not dragging me into a closet."

Puck laughed as the youth made his way towards the door hurriedly. The little jerk had no idea how tempted the fairy had been to do just that.

Ryan gave a large sigh of relief as he exited the old house. Finally, he was safe! Never had it felt so good to be out in the open; safe from foes convinced his spirit animal was some creepy old man.

" _Ryan Henderson!_ " a hoarse voice hissed.

Ryan froze. What in the world…

" _Ryan Eugene Gilbert Henderson!_ "

Suddenly, an old woman with a crazed expression leapt out from behind a bush. Her hair was unkempt and her eyes had a wild, bizarre look about them. Her face had extraordinary moko swirling up and down its wrinkled surface. She wore a straw, woven, tribal dress. Most importantly, she held a large battle axe in her shaking hands.

" _Ryan Eugene Gilbert Henderson!_ " she yelled. "You stay away from my Daphne, you hear? _Stay away!_ "

Ryan dropped his bag and ran, screaming all the way.


	2. Well, now they know

**Chapter Two:**

 **Well, Now They Know**

* * *

" _Be the good girl you always have to be! Conceal, don't feel, don't let them knoooooow!"_

Sabrina Grimm stopped dead in her tracks, dropped her cookies, and covered both her ears, cringing. What was this terrible noise?

" _Well, now they knooooooooooowwwwwwww!"_

Her eyes widened. Someone was singing in the shower? Of course, it must be Puck. This was an unheard-of phenomenon.

" _Let it go! Let it goooooooo! Can't hold it back anymoooore!"_

She smirked, and ran for her phone.

* * *

Sabrina grinned evilly. Puck had, apparently, exited the shower but was still continuing 'singing' as he dressed. She had an excellent footage of his fearsome screeching from just outside the bathroom door. She was _so_ showing all her friends. This was also first-rate, superb blackmail material. The only extra feature this video needed was Puck's face as he exited the bathroom. Sabrina giggled, then quickly stopped. The door was opening.

Steadying her hands, Sabrina quickly calculated when she would jump out and if she was going to scare him or not. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance; she needed to time it perfectly.

The door swung open slowly. Puck had stopped singing, opting for humming as a more discreet way of expressing musical talent.

Sabrina couldn't see his face yet, but she knew it was going to be utterly ridiculous when he realised Sabrina had filmed his entire solo. Three. Two. One…

"RAWR!" Sabrina yelled, jumping out from behind the door.

The boy screamed in a very un-macho way, spun around, and his jaw dropped onto the floor when his gaze landed on Sabrina.

But something was wrong.

This wasn't Puck….

"Pinocchio?" Sabrina squeaked, lost for words.

"AAHH! _Sabrina_!" he shouted.

"Pinocchio! It was _you?_ " Oh, God, Sabrina thought. This is so embarrassing.

To make matters worse, Pinocchio had _not_ gotten dressed. The only thing keeping him from nudity was a small towel around his waist. He quickly wrapped his skinny, pale arms around his equally pale torso.

"You should be in bed!" He shrieked hysterically. " _AAAHHH!_ Go _away!_ "

And, for the first time in her life, Sabrina Grimm obliged.


	3. Struggles of the American driver

**Chapter Three:**

 **Struggles of the American Driver**

* * *

"I'm fairly certain you're driving faster than legal," Jake said nervously. "You do realise that this area is filled with weirdly-shaped Austarlian trees that are just begging to be crashed into?"

"Relax! That sign says sixty five. We're in a hurry, right?" Puck replied.

"Maybe the sign is wrong! Or maybe our car meter is broken. I'm sure we can't possibly be allowed to drive sixty five miles per hour. What if we kill someone? It's important to make a good first impression on the Goblin by being early, but we're definitely not going to make a good impression on him by arriving on a stretcher. We're also probably breaking a thousand laws right now, what with your driving without a license and the corpse in the trunk. The cursed stones in my briefcase, too."

"You're starting to sounding like Henry," Puck warned. He did not decrease his speed. "Since when did you care about doing illegal stuff, anyway?"

"What if the cops catch us? We've been delayed enough on this mission. I _told_ you we should've gone back for my coat. If we went back for the coat, we'd be in Kansas by now."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Yes, in the form of two scorched poodles with rabies."

Jake smiled tightly. "We really should park on the side and check if anything's wrong with the speed meter. I'm absolutely certain we're going too fast to be legal."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Oh, Jake. Just trust me, all right? We're goin' to be just fine."

"I would, but… oh, great. Just great! Puck, am I being obsessive or do you hear sirens?"

"…Unfortunately, I think I do. Oh, *bad word*— I think that's a cruiser coming after us. Let's stay calm… what do I do?"

Jake closed his eyes, groaning. "I _told_ you so! Okay, pull over. Also, we'd better swap seats now. You don't have a license."

"You think the cops are going to believe that a man with two broken arms just drove around all those hairpin bends?"

"Maybe you steered for me! Ugh, if only we had some forgetful dust! Or even your flute! This is just great. Puck, I think there's a vial of mermaid tears in the back seat. It works as a kind of camouflage; it'll let the cops see what they expect to see. If you show them my license, they'll expect you to look like the picture. It's iffy, though. Can you find it?

"Uhh… yeah! This one?" Puck grunted. "How does it work?"

"Do you have a lighter? Spill a tiny bit of the stuff into the open flame; don't douse the fire. Close the windows. It should turn into a fine mist if you do it right, and fill the car. Also, don't let the liquid touch you. You'll be annihilated immediately."

"Right."

* * *

"You, Jake, are the biggest idiot since the dawn of time," Puck stated.

" _Me?_ " Jake asked incredulously. " _You_ were the one driving too fast, even though I _told_ you to slow down. If you didn't drive so fast, we wouldn't have even been noticed been noticed by the police; and we wouldn't have had to use the tears. How was I supposed to know the stupid cops expected to see a couple of drunkards, anyway?" He paused. "Oh, it's no point just sitting in this cell, arguing. You should turn into a bug and escape, now. If we show up late at the Goblin's and he finds out we were arrested for speeding, he's not going to be impressed. You tell him I was… detained… along the way. Have you still got the map?"

"I'm not going anywhere without you, Jake," the fairy boy told his comrade seriously. "You know that I'm no diplomat. What if I say something dumb that offends him, and he decides to hold me captive? Or eat me? Anyway, I really can't leave you alone. You Grimms are such magnets for trouble. I bet that if I leave you alone for two minutes, you're going to find a way to get yourself killed."

Jake buried his head in his knees, as his hands were unavailable. "Wow, Puck, your concern about my wellbeing just brings tears to my eyes," he said sarcastically. "Cooperate, man, just this once. I really, really need that nettle. I think you owe me, anyhow, seeing as you refused to slow down even when I practically got down on my knees and begged. Please, just go!"  
Jake inflicted his best puppy eyes on the fairy, a trick he discovered Puck was easily won over by. He was surprisingly soft-hearted for someone who pretended to be so tough all the time.

Puck shook his head, groaning. "Fine. You really are impossible, Jake. Try not to die in the meanwhile."  
He halted in his steps suddenly, listening attentively to a conversation outside the cell that Jake, with his mortal ears, could not hear.  
"By the way, that policeman just told his mate that we were driving a hundred and twenty kilometres per hour- exactly one point six times faster than the speed limit. Also, we were driving on the wrong side of the road. He just said that American tourists are all idiots."

* * *

 **Did you guess why they were going too fast? Were the characters OOC? Tell me!  
And, yes, 'iffy' is a word. Check out the poll in my profile!**

 **For the American tourists out there- please don't be offended.**


	4. Hag in The Shower

Baba Yaga marvelled at how a shower could be so relaxing. True, Bunny's luxurious, sprawling mansion might be considered somewhat inconvenient if an emergency evacuation was called for (as compared to her chicken house); and the stately building itself couldn't even manage a little baby karate kick, but the old hag wouldn't mind having a couple of showers like these a few times in a blue moon.  
There were fifteen different water jets to choose from, a speaker emitting soft classical music, and thousands of tiny bottles of scented soaps and shampoos and conditioners and lotion; as well as several other beauty products Baba Yaga could not name, but all smelled wonderful. (She had gotten all excited when she first saw them and squeezed out the foamy creams and gels, tossing the caps on the ground, and smushed them all into her hair at once and there were so many bubbles she got more excited and opened _all_ the bottles and squeezed all the contents into her hair before she realised that the label saying 'Lavender and Mint Foot Wash' meant whatever was in that tube was probably intended for her feet. But no one need ever know.)

She had been in there for about an hour or so (a large portion of that time spent sheepishly gathering the bottle caps scattered on the floor, telling herself it was her first bath in fifty years and the first civilised one in her life, and something like this was to be expected) before deciding she had better get ready for the feast, and the ball that would eventually follow. She was quite excited about meeting the hairdryer. Even more excited about the room service.

Shaking herself dry like a dog after a swim, she pulled at the door. Nothing happened. She pulled harder, then pushed, groaning with frustration. That Bunny! She rattled the door. How could she have fallen for such a simple trick? How could she have believed that no ill-feeling boded between the two of them after she had deprived Bunny of her eyes? The witch had enchanted the door to lock itself after she entered!  
"Help!" she screamed, still shaking the door handle violently, before she remembered. All the bathrooms in Bunny's mansion had soundproof spells cast on them, because of several guests' tendencies to burst into soaring soprano and/or other most unsightly noises during the most inconvenient times. Now, she was locked inside a small space with no weapons, no amulets or wands, and… and… and no _clothes_.

Bunny will be executed for this, she thought. Now, if only I had any sort of weapon that was not tiny and plastic and devoid of pleasantly scented creams…

Then, Baba Yaga had a brainwave. She could call the rest of the Three on the Link! Wait. Bunny was on the Link. Temptress.

For another ten minutes, Baba Yaga yanked on the door handle desperately, to no avail. With a resigned sigh, she decided to risk calling, even though Bunny would almost certainly hear the appeal before Daphne did.  
In the best case scenario, she would be locked in a dungeon and tortured for a thousand years and her eyes would be scooped out with a molten hot spoon. In the worst, Bunny would take several photos of Baba Yaga in the shower and publish it on all her social media and send it to every magazine and newspaper in the United States, _then_ lock her in a dungeon and torture her for a thousand years and pluck her eyes out.

Either way, her prospects looked very, very grim.

She sent out the appeal for help.

* * *

Daphne was reluctant to answer the call on the Link. To do her justice, the messages sent through on that supposedly emergency system were usually livid reminders that she had missed 'yet _another_ meeting' of ' _paramount_ importance' and that she was 'an obtuse, slow witted, undependable, bone-headed half-wit of a nincompoop'.

Also, she was waiting for the guards to get distracted by something so she could get over to the chocolate fountain that, for some reason, everyone kept telling her _wasn't ready yet_.

* * *

After a few agonizing few moments that seemed like hours, the bathroom door was unlocked. Not picked, not forced, not opened with a spell. Unlocked with a master key. Baba Yaga's misery and dreadful uncertainty had come to an end.

Of course, she had always known her death would be a violent one. People like her simply didn't die of old age.  
But it had never occurred to her that she might die cornered, of all the respectable places there were in the Almighty's green earth, in a _shower stall_ , shivering and dishevelled and wet, like a rat. Least of all that she would be _naked_ when her time came.

It was indecent, to say the least.

The door opened smoothly, but cautiously. An image suddenly entered her mind—the Faerie Herald, a picture of her in the shower stall on the front page, and a detailed article about how the oldest and most respectable witch in town had fell for such a simple trick it wasn't even considered a trick.  
She quickly squatted down and, with some difficulty, hugged her knees to her chest. The photo would not be obtained without a fight.

Bunny leapt in with a war-cry, swiftly getting into a combat pose. Daphne was at her heels. _Daphne? She was in this too?_

"What is it? Where's the emergency?" Bunny demanded. Her dog, Lupa, sniffed suspiciously, looking for an intruder.

 _Nothing out of the ordinary,_ she told Bunny on their Link. She then noticed Baba Yaga, and whined.

Bunny granted her permission to leave after she made sure nothing was out of the ordinary.

Daphne glanced around the room with wide eyes, and gasped when she caught sight of the naked hag behind a thin veil of misty glass. Heaving, she ran out of the room. "Just a moment!"

Trembling, Baba Yaga glared at Bunny. "You witch! Traitor!" she screamed. "Traitor! Let me out!"

Bunny 'looked' at her warily, and slowly straightened to her usual, perfect posture. "What?"

Baba Yaga made a noise at the back of her throat she had picked up from some of the feral animals that lived near her home. "Let. Me. Out. Now. And get me a towel."

Bunny had never run into this kind of situation before, and didn't know what to do. She was still suspicious and extremely uncomfortable. Suppose the real Baba Yaga had been calling for help when she was abducted and replaced by someone in disguise?

"What is Hamster's favourite colour?" she challenged. No one but the real Baba Yaga, and Daphne, would know of their nickname for the Deputy Sheriff.

Baba Yaga was very surprised. Then she scowled and rammed her shoulder against the door, seeing as Bunny did not appear to have a phone. "Let me out, you buffoon!" she screamed.

"Tell me Hamster's favourite colour!" Bunny repeated forcefully. She fished a small vial of forgetful dust out of her handbag. "Or I'll wipe your memory!"

Baba Yaga slumped and snarled. "Beige."

"And Fish Face?"

"Orange."

Still cautiously, Bunny took a towel from the heated rack and, cautiously, grasped the door handle…

…and slid the door open.

* * *

 **Wasn't expecting that, huh? Or** ** _were_** **you?**

 **I know it's my second shower scene but I just couldn't resist. Everyone out there has a wrinkled hag in the shower fetish, right? ;)**


End file.
